Little Gray Donkey, a Christmas Story
by Lion in the Land
Summary: The annual Christmas play is threatened when Donkey realizes he doesn't have a name.


This one goes out to Metropolis Kid. At his request, the theme is Johnny Cash's "Little Gray Donkey" set in the Shrek universe. Merry Christmas, Mr. Metro and everyone else who reads this story.

 **Little Gray Donkey**

Donkey pranced into the huge barn where his friends had gathered to practice for this year's Christmas play. Towering above the other milling bodies was his best friend of all. Trotting over to the ogre, Donkey said, "Lay it on me, Shrek. What part do I play this year?"

"It's a very important part, Donkey. You get to help the hero flee from the evil King Herod by carrying the Virgin Mary from full inn to full inn, and then finally to the manger."

"Ooh, lots of action. I like that. Who's playing Mary?"

"None other than Fiona." Shrek's bulging eyes turned to goo as he gazed across the drafty barn at his bride.

Donkey's eyes followed, examining the hefty ogrette. It was a lot for a little donkey to bear from inn to inn. "So…uh…Shrek, sometimes—just for fun—does Fiona ever change back into that skinny girl?"

"Donkey," Shrek said in his chastising voice. "You know she doesn't." He walked away, handing scripts to newcomers.

Puss in Boots crossed in front of Donkey and passed him, shouting, " _¿Dónde está el Niño Jesús?_ " Instead of his usual feathered fedora, the little cat wore a flat director's beret.

"Wait, Shrek!" Donkey galloped after his ogre friend. "You forgot to give me mine."

"What's that, Donkey?"

"My script. You forgot to give me my script."

"You don't need one. Your character has no lines."

"No lines? Shrek, come on, now. Stop goofing around. Whoever heard of a donkey that doesn't talk?"

"See for yourself." Shrek dropped a script to the floor in front of Donkey's hooves.

Donkey pawed at it, leafing through the pages and looking for his part, mumbling as he skimmed. "Angel gives a warning…Herod cackles…Mary's worried…Joseph goes to buy an ass for the journey….kings see a star….shepherds in the fields." He looked up. "Shrek, where's my part?"

"You passed it." Shrek lifted the book and turned back a few pages then pointed. "Here."

Donkey looked, his rubbery lips moving as he read more thoroughly. His lips stopped motion, and he let out a choking sound. "Ass? Ass! You're telling me that I'm the ass?"

Shrek's bowl full of jelly quivered as he chuckled. "Calm down, Donkey. It's just a word."

"Yeah—the word _ass_!"

Several others turned toward the outburst. Shrek's eyes shifted from side to side before settling again on Donkey. "Shh, shh, there're young ones around. What's the big deal, anyhow? It means the same thing as donkey."

"Donkey, _phhft_ ," Donkey grumbled.

"Yeah, you may have heard it before seeing as it's your name."

"Donkey's not a name. It's a word that means ass." Donkey looked down, scuffing at the floor with his hoof, and then a new notion crossed his furry brain. His head snapped up. "Donkey isn't a name," he said evenly.

Concern pinched the ogre's eyebrows, and he spoke with caution. "Sure it is—it's your name."

"Donkey isn't a name," Donkey repeated more firmly. "Shrek is a name. Fiona is a name. Pinnochio is a name. Donkey is just a word."

"I suppose it is," Shrek conceded, scratching the back of his thick neck. "But look at it this way—you made out better than the cat."

"You think having no name is better? You think not being important enough to be given a proper name—one that doesn't mean ass—is better?" Without noticing it, Donkey had begun clicking his hooves slowly backward across the wood floor. The realization that he didn't have a name was devastating, and he wanted to get away from his friend. Away from everyone.

"Come now, Donkey..."

The sound of the non-name was too much. Donkey turned and galloped out of the barn, across the lawn, into the field, and far, far away. He didn't stop running until he reached an icy lake. The temperature had dropped, letting him know he must've reached the outer edge of the kingdom. Crossing the lake would take him out of it entirely.

He stepped out onto the ice and tapped with his hind hooves until he split off a small iceberg. The currents underneath drew the chunk away from the land, and the little Donkey drifted onto the lake. He was leaving behind everything he knew and everyone who didn't think he was good enough to deserve a name.

Before long, he stepped out onto the opposite shore. He climbed upward into the wooded hills before him, not really sure where he was going or what he'd do next. The snow lessened as he went along. When he reached a point where it disappeared altogether, he heard the soft strumming of a guitar. His long, gray ears perked until he identified the direction from which it came. Stepping over the rocky ground, he moved toward it.

Eventually, he came upon a man sitting on the ground, leaning against a tree. The man wore dark, charcoal-colored jeans and an ebony button-down shirt. Upon his head was a jet black cowboy hat. His head tilted downward so that the rim hid his face. The man continued to play his guitar as Donkey approached.

Without looking up, the man said, "Hello there, little fella. What might your problem be?" He had a rich, deep, weathered voice with a gentle, yet authoritative tone.

"H—how do you know I have a problem?"

"Most folks have one," the man said, strumming.

"Who are you?" Donkey asked.

"Why, they call me The Man in Black."

"The man in black…no offence, but that's not a name. It's a description. 'Course, it's still better than what they gave me," Donkey grumbled. "I just got a word—donkey. Can you imagine that? A whole kingdom of people trying pawn that sorry ass word off as a name."

"You must be tired," the man said in his calm, rumbling voice. "Have a sit down. I'd like to play a song for you." He continued plucking the strings of his guitar as he spoke these words:

" _You know, after six days of creating the world, the Lord has surely earned his seventh day of rest. For instance, take the day he created the animals. Just as he was about finished, he picked up one more piece of clay. After shaving it to his liking, he added a pinch of courage, a dab of humility, six grains of faithfulness. This one he made just a little bit ugly. But he gave it a big hand of solemn wisdom, gave it a little pat, and sent it on its way."_

Donkey bobbed his head, listening, but at a pause in the man's speech, he asked, "So, ah, is there any actual singing in this song?"

The Man in Black tilted his head up just enough so that Donkey could make out a threatening gleam in his charcoal black eyes.

"Oh, but this is nice," Donkey was quick to add. "This is real nice."

The rim of the man's hat angled downward again, and he continued. _"Upon a winter's day and long ago, the dusty road to Bethlehem was trod by many feet. And in that throng a donkey walked, a donkey small and gray, as donkeys plod their donkey days, through cold or rain or heat. No hand reached out to touch him as he went his donkey way. No scribe set down his donkey name for men unborn to speak."_

Donkey let out a small gasp at that one. The man went on to tell the story of how the humble donkey carried Mary and God's son throughout the night, of how prophets had predicted a king to come on noble steed, of how none suspected a child king to arrive on a donkey small, old, tired, and gray.

" _A donkey plodding through the dust to see God's will was done."_ The man finally sang at the final words: _"God's little donkey, tonight."_

Donkey's long-lashed eyes brimmed with tears. As the last whispers of the chords faded, he lamented aloud, "I _am_ an ass!"

The man stayed silent, but donkey could feel his steely gaze upon him.

"I've been so concerned about myself and getting a fancy part in the play and a fancy name," Donkey explained. "I didn't realize the true honor was being asked to play any role at all in the Christmas story. If my friends want to call me Donkey, that's good enough for me—no, it's more than I deserve."

"Perhaps it would be a good time for you to talk to the cookie."

"The cookie?"

The man nodded to the side, indicating an opening between two trees. Curious, Donkey trotted through the gap and heard a sniffling noise coming from a short distance ahead. Following the sound, he came upon a small figure sitting at the edge of a cliff.

"Gingerbread Man?"

The cookie turned, tears streaming down his tiny cheeks.

"What are you doing here?" Donkey asked, coming over to sit by him.

Gingerbread Man's shoulders slumped. "I got mad when I saw they'd cast me as a baby—again. I'm small. I get it!" His irritation made his voice sound even higher-pitched than usual. "But that doesn't mean I enjoy wearing diapers in every production. So I stormed out of there and ended up here."

When he continued, his voice took on a more somber note. "That man back there sang me some Christmas songs, and now I understand that it wasn't just any baby they wanted me to play this year. They trusted me with a great responsibility, and I spit in their faces. Now they all know, just like I do, that I was never worthy to begin with." His little shoulders shook as he busted out crying.

Donkey lifted a front hoof and gently stroked his back. "I think that's the whole point."

The cookie's crying quieted and he looked at Donkey, wiping away his fat tears with rounded hands. "What is?" he squeaked.

"That you're not worthy. I'm not worthy, either. None of us are. But we're asked to play these roles, anyway." As he spoke, Donkey sat up straighter, renewed with a sense of purpose. "You're not the only one who went all drama king today, Gingerbread Man. And maybe our friends have already replaced us in the show, but something tells me we'll be forgiven. I'm going back there right now. Will you come with me?"

"Yes," Gingerbread Man said decisively, standing. "Yes, I will."

"Hop on, little man!" Donkey said, and Gingerbread Man climbed onto his back. Donkey lifted onto straightened hind legs and walked back through the opening between the trees. "Thank you, Man in Black, for getting us back on track. If you're on the other side of the lake next week, you're invited to our Christmas play."

"Merry Christmas!" Gingerbread Man called as they trotted into the trees.

The man responded with a fast melody on his guitar appropriate for charging forth and saving the day. Donkey found the iceberg lodged against the shore, and they climbed on. Using a back hoof to paddle them across the lake, he asked along way, "Gingerbread Man, when you say The Man in Black sang you some songs, did he…did he actually _sing_ or was it more like talking with just a little bit of singing thrown in?"

"He sang."

"Huh. Did he ever insinuate that you was ugly?"

"Not that I could tell."

"Double huh."

They arrived upon the other shore and galloped to the barn. Before poking their heads through the open doorway, they heard agitated voices bickering. At the first scuffs of Donkey's hooves on the wooden floor, all went silent for a moment. Then there was a gasp, followed by cheers.

The group rushed toward Donkey and Gingerbread Man, shouting things like, "We've been saved! Jesus is here."

Gingerbread Man was lifted from Donkey's back and carried away on the shoulders of one of the Merry Men. Puss in Boots tossed his beret into the air in celebration as he followed the group. Donkey was left all alone at the entrance to the barn, yet he wore a joyful grin. He didn't need to be carried away on shoulders to know his tiny role was important.

But Donkey wasn't completely forgotten. One pair of bulbous eyes peered over the crowd at him. When Shrek caught Donkey's gaze, he gave him a slight nod that told his friend he was proud—and happy to see him.

THE END

Lyrics from "Little Gray Donkey" as performed by Johnny Cash


End file.
